To the Rhythm of the War Drums
by SevenOverThree
Summary: It wasn't true. It couldn't be true! But... which did he want more? A normal life without the voices and wall monster and the perpetual need to kill, or a world where everybody needed to die?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimers:** JtHM is property of the great Jhonen Vasquez.

**Authors Notes:** Just an idea that came to me one day. I fell in love with it, and decided it had to be done. There are a few things I've added in and/or tweaked, but overall, it's the same thing as when I first came up with it. May or may not be continued.

* * *

"Goodnight Squeegee!" Johnny said to the small boy, pulling his body through the window as he looked over at the mildly terrified boy.

"G-goodnight, Mr. Johnny..." Johnny laughed, then shook his head.

"You know I never sleep, little Squeegee." And with that, he dropped down to the half-dead grass below, putting his hands in his pockets as he walked calmly back over to his own house, whistling Ode to Joy as he walked. Today had been good - nobody had been rude to him. Nobody had flared up his anger and made him kill them. After all, with the Wall Monster gone, taking people home and draining them of blood or torturing them was getting to be a bad and very unnecessary habit.  
He ghosted silently into his home, getting mildly irritated at the condensation that had built up on his stairs - a wooden roof did not block out water at all, and it had been raining earlier. Most of what he owned was soaked again. Thankfully, though, all the important stuff was downstairs.

"-out, you bastard, let me _out_! I didn't do anything!" Johnny blinked, then giggled. That was right, he'd brought a guy home yesterday. He hadn't been in the mood to torture him then, and had forgotten about him today. He still didn't feel like inflicting any sort of wound to the man - maybe he'd let him go? No, Johnny thought. That would be too easy. The man wouldn't learn anything, then. Wouldn't learn a thing about manners. The man had bumped into him; made him drop the brainfreezy he'd not sipped even once. And then just continued on his way, didn't even apologize!

"The nerve of some people..." The maniac muttered. After knocking the man out and taking him home, he'd forgotten about how he'd planned on buying a second freezy with the mans money. So instead, he'd decided on visiting Squee. After all, the boy hadn't seen him in nearly a week! He'd deserved a visit.  
Johnny was torn from his thoughts by more yelling from his captive down below.

"You fuck! So I bumped into you, is that reason to _kill _me? Lots of dudes bump into other dudes! It's harmless!" Johnny bristled, and began storming down the stairs, yelling at the man as he went.

"You made me drop my _only _freezy _before _I could drink _any _of it! I only have so much I can truly enjoy, you know, and in _case _you haven't already guessed by the state of my home, only _so _much money to enjoy those things _with_! So, I shall make you feel _exactly_ what _I_ felt when _you_-" But not used to the wet of the stairs, he miss-stepped, and fell, tumbling down and cracking his head off the hard cement walls of his basement. His vision went black, and the mans laughter was the last thing he heard before he was taken completely by the darkness.

0o0o0o0o0

_Beep..._

_Beep..._

_Beep..._

_Beep_...

...What on earth?

_Beep..._

_Beep..._

What was beeping? He didn't own anything that beeped. Well, nothing that beeped without being activated first. And he kept those _very _far down in his basement. He may have killed people with bombs before, but he certainly didn't want to blow his entire street off the face of the earth. Then he wouldn't be able to visit Squeegee anymore.

_Beep... _

_Beep..._

Okay, now it was getting irritating. What was going on? Slowly, he cracked open his eyes, noting that it took more energy than normal - it felt like he hadn't opened his eyes in... forever! Turning his attention to his surroundings, Johnny stifled a cough. He was in a very, _very _white room. He knew this shade of white, and the choking, too-clean scent that covered everything around him.

He was in a hospital.

_Fantastic_.

Using the muscles that felt like they'd not moved in years, Johnny forced himself to sit upright, aware that the beeping (that was starting to really get on his nerves) had speed up just slightly in response to his movement.

"Who brought me here?" He asked nobody. Or at least, that was what he wanted to say. What came out was a dry and forced-out 'who' and a series of coughs that sounded as though he'd inhaled a little too much dust. The noise, however, brought a group of nurses running into his room. They all attempted to make physical contact with him at the same time, asking him things that he blocked out as he pushed them all away, forcing a command through his strangely underused-feeling throat.

"Stop touching me!" The nurses obeyed, and as Johnny coughed loudly, paying for his yell, one of them walked forward.

"When did you wake up?" She sounded amazed, and very happy. Johnny shrugged, pulling away from the women as best he could.

"Minutes-" Another cough. "Minutes ago.." The nurse smiled, and Johnny could see similar expressions on the others.

"This is amazing, we've got to inform Doctor Callahan of this." The woman turned to her colleagues. "I'll stay with him." The nurses all left, save the one who'd spoken. Johnny stared at her, swallowing a bit before speaking again.

"What's going on here?" The nurse turned back to him, smiling.

"Right, you must be very confused right now. I'm Doctor Macey - You've been in a coma for the past three years." Johnny let out a hard breath, staring blankly. A _coma_?

"W-what is the date?" The nurse thought for a moment.

"June fifth, 1999." (1) Johnny gasped gently.

"But... it was June fifth... yesterday!"

* * *

(1) - I think this is about the time the comic was published, if not a year or two after it was finished.

0o0o0o0o0

Yeah... Coma!Johnny. Everything was a lie, m'boy! Every last fragment!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimers:** JtHM is property of the great Jhonen Vasquez.

**Authors Notes:** Chapter two - Now, remember, I'm still unsure if this is gonna be continued. After all, I've got 'To Want To' to tend to. Plus, I've no clue where this will run off to - I have no idea what the end, or even goal, is.

* * *

The nurses had explained to him that it wouldn't be uncommon for him to have been dreaming - after all, he was technically just sleeping. Either way, he found himself distinctly distrusting of the hospital staff. OF course, it probably didn't help that he hated hospitals to begin with. He wasn't even sure why he was still there. Possibly because there was a chance what the nurses told him was true; that he had just awoken from a coma, and was still trying to figure out which of his 'memories' where real, and which were just dreams.

"Excuse me, I'd like to ask you some questions." Said the Doctor he'd learned was the Callahan fellow the previous nurses had gone after. Johnny grinned as he watched the man enter his room. Oh, he loved answering questions.

"Go ahead - ask me questions, _lots _of questions." He replied, mimicking what he'd said to the survey man in his 'dream'.

"What's your name?" Johnny blinked. He knew himself as 'Johnny C', but if he had just been in a coma, that might not have been his name out here. The maniac tilted his head to one side, half-grinning.

"I don't know - what _is _my name?" The doctor frowned.

"So you can't remember who you are?" Johnny shifted so he was kneeling.

"That depends, mister Doctor. Tell me my name, and I'll tell you if I remember." The doctor frowned, examining his sheet before speaking again.

"Well, what name do you call yourself? What did you go by in your dream?" Johnny giggled, grinning while rocking around on the bed and looking very much like a mentally unstable person.

"Johnny C, good doctor." Johnny's smile dropped off his face, giving way to a displeased frown. "However, considering my great distaste for hospitals of any sort, I don't think I should refer to you as a 'good' anything." The doctor frowned as well.

"Well, I apologize for keeping you here against your wishes then, Mr, uh... C. But it's regulation to keep coma victims in the hospital for a few weeks, at least, and that's just for observation - I'm not counting all the time it'll take to re-teach your body how to walk, how handle solid foods, and even balance. Once we're sure you're okay to care for yourself, you'll be permitted to leave." Johnny sighed impatiently.

"A few _weeks_? That's not good. I have to see if any of my things are mine, or just some imaginative byproduct of my apparent coma."

"It is possible that you dreamed up everything you remember owning. For that matter, records say you were admitted by a young girl who claimed she found you lying on the side of the road, so we don't have anything putting claim onto who you used to be." Johnny blinked.

"What, you have no medical records of me? No fingerprints?" The doctor shook his head.

"If we did, I wouldn't have asked you what you called yourself. I'd have just told you." Dr. Callahan said. Johnny grumbled, slouching into the wall at the head of 'his' bed. Not even the government knew who he was. If that didn't convince him that he shouldn't know his name, nothing would.

"Well, I feel fine, Mr. Doctor - I think I'll leave now." Ignoring the doctors protests, Johnny slid his legs off the bed, shifting his weight onto his feet and shuddering when he found he was no longer used to standing. Three years asleep, he reminded himself. Three years that would've atrophied many, if not all of his muscles. He gripped the edge of the bed, snarling and swiping at the doctor when he came closer, presumably to force him back onto the bed. He had been resting for three entire years, he had no intentions of going back to sleep, even if only for a few days.

"Please, Mr C; you need to rest!" Johnny growled.

"No, I hate sleep - I think you can imagine my irritation at having realized I've been sleeping for three years straight." Johnny shifted a little more weight off his arms and hands, and back onto his feet. "At this moment, I would like nothing more then to do something that requires lots of energy." The maniac grinned. Like chasing after somebody and driving a blade through their skull, tearing open their chest and being so completely elated from the adrenaline coursing through his veins that he wouldn't care one bit when more nurses and doctors came in and saw the scene. Johnny grinned darkly, satisfying himself with mental imagery of him tearing the doctor to shreds, then burying his remains in his -Johnny's- yard in a vain attempt to make grass grow. The doctor, apparently sensing the dark thoughts running through the mans head, took a few steps backwards, away from the man who was now giggling to himself. "No... You see, I don't do resting. In fact, I try not to rest, ever. It 's all excess, you see. Unneeded excess, like so much that makes up this detestable world." The doctor could feel the negative energies radiating off his patient. Who was this man? Or better yet, what exactly had he dreamed up that made him act this way?

"H-how about you just rest for a bit, then I'll see what I can do? I told you, it's regulation to keep patients like you in for observation - just letting you go would get me fired." Johnny contemplated this as he tested out his legs again - he found it very difficult to stand, which irritated him greatly. For that matter, even his arms did not seem to want to cooperate, as before long he had to pull himself back up onto the bed, panting as he cursed his muscle atrophy.

"Fine. But only until I can walk again, mister doctor. Then, whether you like it or not, I'm leaving. Hospitals creep me out." The doctor let out a breath quietly, causing Johnny to smirk slightly. Even in this reality, people were scared by him. That was nice to know. Dream world or not, he was still intimidating.

"Good. Now, get some rest, Mr. C. If you're feeling up to it tomorrow, I'll get you a wheelchair so you can leave your room." Johnny gave the doctor a confused look.

"What? Why can't I leave _now_?" The doctor pointed at the closed window near his bed.

"Because it's rather late, Mr. C." Johnny glanced out at the evening-dark skyline, raising an eyebrow.

"So?" Callahan laughed quietly.

"_So, _most, if not all of the patients will be sleeping. As much as you may want to Mr. C, you aren't allowed to wander the hospital at night." Johnny folded his arms across his chest, glaring at the doctor who Johnny knew was merely doing his job. He wanted to argue, wanted to even disobey the man and sneak out anyway, but how far would he be able to make it before his legs gave out on him? A few feet? About the length across to the door, he'd guess. "Goodnight, Mr. C." Johnny scoffed. Not likely.

"I don't sleep. Besides, I've been asleep for three years, mister doctor - I won't be tired for a while." The doctor let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he left the room. Johnny partly expected the man to lock the door behind him, and was reasonably surprised when he didn't. Why? Was the doctor not afraid that his patient might try to escape? But then again, Johnny thought, he was only able to stand for a few moments, and _that _was while he used the bed to hold himself up.

Eventually, the sun began to slip beneath the rooftops of the city he could see beyond his window, and Johnny watched the streets below continue to operate, much like he intended to do - run without sleep. For a few hours, he managed to do it, too; avoid the sleep he so strongly detested. But eventually, he found it harder and harder to avoid. He had figured that with three years of coma rest behind him, his body would be more than eager to be awake and _doing _things. Apparently he was wrong, as after four and a half hours of watching people and cars pass by on the streets beyond his window, he fell backwards onto his pillow, unconscious and completely run out of energy.

* * *

Short chapter for now. I don't intend on making it a habit. Next chapter is gonna be Johnny getting used to the hospital, and if all goes well, a _mildly sedated_ Johnny. That's gonna be _damned _fun to write.

I'm gonna apologize beforehand, though. I'm unfamiliar with this sort of territory, and do not mean to insult anyone or get facts wrong. I'm doing a lot of guesswork right now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimers:** JtHM is property of the great Jhonen Vasquez.

**Authors Notes:** Third chapter - I've figured out what the plot is gonna be, so chapters for this will begin some notion of regular updating. I just hope you guys like what I have planned.

Interesting things happen this chapter.

* * *

Johnny groaned as he awoke to the sun beaming into his eyes. Damn. He'd slept. Why was it so hard to stay awake? He'd had no trouble back in the fake reality. But then, it _had _been fake.

"Ah, good to see you're up, Mr. C." Came the voice of Dr. Callahan. "Unable to keep yourself up the whole night?" He received a growl as an answer, and chuckled. "Sorry. But you've just woken up from your coma - you won't have much energy for a while. If you burn it all trying to stay awake, you'll be in here for even longer. And judging by our talk from last night, you'd rather prefer to be in here for as short a time as possible." Johnny nodded as he responded, holding back a yawn.

"I don't particularly enjoy hospitals, no."

"Well" Callahan started "I've brought something with me - a wheelchair." Johnny gave the doctor a suspicious, but interested look. "You're to start physical therapy sessions tomorrow afternoon - they're to help you re-learn walking and balance. Till then, I think it'd be best if I help you orient yourself to this place. Don't want you to get lost and wander someplace you shouldn't go." He rolled the chair up to Johnny's bed, and now presented with the ability to leave the too-white room that was his for the time being, Johnny once more slid off his bed, waving the doctor away as he nearly collapsed into the wheelchair. He rubbed the smooth metal of the wheels, then gripped them, shakily turning himself around to face the doctor while almost taking out the table next to his bed. It was half that his arms were protesting their sudden usage, and half that he'd never had to use a wheelchair before. At least, not one that had him _in _it. "Do you want some help?" Johnny shook his head, playing with the wheelchair to get a hang of it, moving forwards and backwards, swirling around in a circle, and back again. By the time he figured he'd be able to wheel himself around without help, he felt whatever remained of the muscles in his arms complaining, stinging madly as he pushed himself out into the hallway and down it, alongside the Doctor.

"Hmm... is everywhere in this hospital so _white_?" Callahan nodded hesitantly.

"...Yes... White is a 'clean' color I guess, though I have often wondered why we can't liven the decor up a little. Would get in the way of other nurses jobs, I guess." He narrowed his eyes in thought. "I suppose the color white is meant to be calming." Johnny followed the doctor as he led him down the hall. "That direction leads to the lobby, eventually." He said, pointing down a hallway, and turning down a different one. "Down here is a lounge area for the patients; it's also large enough to act as a visiting room." Johnny noticed that people where already occupying the room, one of them being a young-looking girl with vibrant purple hair, and emerald green eyes. Callahan, apparently noticing Johnny's stare, chuckled. "That's Devi. She's a volunteer here - started coming after her granddad was admitted here - heart problems. He passed on a year back, but she decided to keep coming here."

"...Devi...?" He muttered. She existed? Did that mean, if he looked hard enough, he'd find Squeegee, as well? Did this mean House 777 still existed, too? What about the wall monster? Questions rolled through his mind, and he was too deep in thought to notice Callahan wheeling him closer to the girl until she was almost directly in front of him.

"Mr. Callahan, good morning." The girl who was Devi, but at the same time, was not, said. "Who's this?" She asked. Johnny opened his mouth to speak, but found himself unable to say a word. Despite knowing that this world was not the one from his memories, he found it both wonderful and terrifying to see her gazing at him so casually, so calmly... So without fear or hatred.

"This is the coma patient I was telling you about - the one who just woke up?" Devi smiled, and Johnny found himself smiling with her. He couldn't help it - though Devi was the reason he'd wanted to swear off emotions, she had also been the one thing that made him feel best. She looked down at him.

"Oh yeah? Seems like he's in a good mood. What's your name?" He almost looked away, but managed to contain the blush threatening to fill his face.

"J-Johnny C." He stuttered. "But you can call me Nny." Johnny told her breathlessly, finally looking away as the blush he'd been trying to fight back reddened his pale face. She laughed again, which made Johnny want to sink into the wheelchair and vanish.

"I'm Devi." She told him. Yes yes, he knew this already. Devi D, the one who got away, the girl he'd tried to kill in attempts to preserve the happiness she gave him forever. Well, he wouldn't make the same mistake this time around. "I'll take him. You go do the work you're _supposed _to be doing for Lee." Devi told Callahan. The man's eyes widened.

"What?"

"The reports? For Mr. Lee? You were supposed to hand them in today Mr. Callahan, remember?" The doctor groaned.

"Oh, damn. In all the excitement with Mr. C waking up, I forgot all about it!" He ran off, but not before thanking the purple-haired girl for her reminder. Once he was gone, Devi turned back to him.

"So, Nny. How do you like this place?" He shuddered, wanting to tell her everything, but he knew that that would just drive her away from him. If he tried to confess to _this _Devi, he would only lose her all over again. "Personally I think it's boring." She said, taking a notepad and pen out of a pocket in her white medical gown and doodling in it. He wheeled himself into a better position. It was a robot with little limbs, and big, round eyes with a short antennae on it's head. Johnny watched her draw, entranced. He'd never had the chance to watch Devi draw, before - they'd had the one date, but before anything better could have happened, he'd ruined it and had never gotten to see the many paintings she'd told him about.

"That's good." He said, smiling shyly as she gazed at him. "You're a good artist, Devi." She let out an amused sigh.

"Tell that to all the Art Colleges I tried getting into. Showed them my portfolio and they rejected me, saying my stuff wasn't right for what they taught, something about their standards." She turned to him "But I know what they really wanted to say - they all hated my subjects; what I drew." Johnny narrowed an eye in confusion.

"What would that be, then?" Devi smiled.

"Robots, monsters, aliens, creepy demon-dolls. Things like that." Johnny smiled lightly. "But _apparently _the Art Colleges here don't approve of Sci-fi."

Johnny thought for a moment. It seemed that even out here, in this reality, people hated those that where different from them. Naturally. He smiled at Devi, still half-expecting a scream, or a boot to the face, and spoke.

"I think it looks good. Anyone who says you aren't good enough deserves a knife buried deep in their abdominal cavity. Stupid idiot _animals _wouldn't know good art if I used it to gouge their innards out of their chest." He said angrily, forgetting for a moment where he was. Devi was staring at him with a mildly concerned look in her eyes. Johnny looked away, eyes shut tightly as he gritted his teeth in anger, screaming at himself in his head. He couldn't do that here, couldn't talk about murder so casually. Especially not in front of Devi. "Sorry." He said, opening his eyes and staring at his thinner-than-normal legs. He was so stupid.

"It's okay. But, why did you say that?" Johnny looked at her cautiously, wringing his hands together in nervousness.

"Why did I say what?" He asked her slowly. Devi gazed at her robot drawing, then back at Johnny.

"The thing about killing somebody. Why would you talk like that?" Johnny looked away again. He had hoped that she wouldn't ask him, that she'd be more flattered that he liked her art that much.

"N-no reason." Devi's eyes narrowed.

"That's a lie, and you know it Nny." His gaze -which had returned to his knees- shot up to look her in her eyes. He was surprised she'd known so quickly.

"What's makes you say I was lying?" He asked.

"Because when you said that whoever didn't like my art deserved a knife to the chest, I could hear it in your voice - you _meant _that. You _meant _it, Johnny; you're voice was serious, and angry. If you didn't _mean _they deserved to die, you wouldn't used the tone you did." Johnny stared at her, vaguely impressed. However, the silence between them was disturbed when Johnny's stomach grumbled, causing Devi to laugh. Johnny blushed, looking away in mild embarrassment. Back in the world _he _knew, he hadn't eaten much, yes, but had always staved off hunger just enough to never have this happen to him. "Looks like you're hungry, Nny." Johnny continued to avoid eye contact with her and as Devi laughed again, she grabbed onto Johnny's wheelchair, wheeling him down the hall.

"Where are you taking me?" He asked, straining to look back into the lounge area where he'd figured he was supposed to stay until that Callahan guy came back. Devi chuckled, poking him.

"The cafeteria, of course. You might not be able to eat solid foods for a while, but that doesn't mean you can't eat _period_." Johnny thought for a moment, then grinned, twisting to look up at Devi.

"Do they have cherry freezies?"

"Cherry what?" Devi replied, glancing at him confusedly. Johny's grin fell just slightly.

"Slushies. Cherry ones. Do you have any?"

"This is a hospital, not a convenience store." Johnny sighed in disappointment, quietly lamenting the absence of his favorite food. "But" Devi continued "I might be able to sneak you one tonight or tomorrow." The prospect of being on the receiving end of what was essentially illegal goods made the man grin, excited at the knowledge that Devi, of all people, was going to sneak him a brainfreezie. "The nurses have you set up with a vitamin drink for now though, because your body needs raw nutrients rather than the Intravenous stuff they had you on before. They said your body needs to learn how to process nutrients before they start giving you solid food."

"Does it taste good?" Devi scoffed.

"About as good as liquidized vitamins _can _taste." Johnny made a gagging noise, making Devi laugh again."Don't worry - they'll start easing you onto more solid, _good _tasting foods as time passes." They entered the cafeteria, and Johnny immediately wished that he hadn't been in a coma for so long - this room reeked of tasty foods that he knew he wouldn't be able to eat for the longest time. "Yeah, teasing, isn't it?" Johnny groaned, detecting the smell of bacon and eggs amongst the varying scents that floated around the room.

"That smells delicious..." He muttered, as Devi walked pushed him up to a table, then walked off. Presumably, she was getting the Vitamin drink she'd mentioned, but Johnny would've liked nothing more than to have some of the yet-forbidden foods he could smell.  
He turned, watching Devi as she talked with the woman at the counter. Occasionally, Devi would gesture back at him, and he couldn't help but be curious and a little suspicious at what their conversation was about. Could she have been telling the woman about what he'd said earlier, the bit where he'd mentioned killing somebody? Or of how he intimidated her, as unlikely as that one seemed in this world.  
Slowly, Johnny blinked, holding his head as spots swirled across his vision. He blinked them away, rubbing his eyes with a fist. Vaguely, he hoped that wouldn't happen very often; spots floating in front of his eyes were annoying, and they made him dizzy.

"Hey, you okay?" Johnny turned quickly to face the woman, at once regretting it. The spots came back, again accompanied by the swirl of dizziness. He moaned quietly, holding his head and holding his eyes tightly shut. "You don't look so good."

"Dizzy." Johnny said. Devi frowned.

"You might have just moved too quickly." Her frown turned into an amused smirk. "It could _also _be that it's because you just woke up _yesterday_, and you're forcing your body to move. You aren't used to moving so much, let the doctors help you out some, okay?" She handed him the drink, which he took only reluctantly.  
Cautiously, he took a sip, coughing when the mixture hit his throat.

"This tastes like cardboard mixed with bad medicine!" Johnny remarked, frowning when Devi laughed.

"Well, technically, it is." She sat down on the table, smiling at him pityingly. "But it's the only thing you're allowed to have right now - I heard that you were pretty deep in that coma of yours, that the doctors figured you wouldn't come up." She gazed at some random spot at the other end of the large room. Johnny, sipping the only foodstuffs he was allowed to eat, listened interestedly. "Apparently, you started getting worse a few weeks ago, then hovered on the brink of death for a while before getting suddenly getting better. You started slipping back again before you woke up." She moved her gaze to her boots. "The doctors wanna go slow with you; they say there's a high chance you might slip under again." Johnny blinked, staring into nothing as the spots returned, his vision blurring more than it had a few minutes ago. Placing the drink carefully down on the table, he gripped the arms to his wheelchair, pointing his gaze in what he hoped was Devi's direction.

"Devi." He couldn't tell if she was looking at him, but could safely assume she was, as she responded.

"What?" He continued trying to search for her through his too-blurry vision. As if sensing something was wasn't right, he heard her move towards him, feeling her hands cup his face as she turned him in a slightly different direction - presumably towards her. He couldn't tell. Everything he saw was a smudgy mass of tints and shades."What's wrong, Nny?" He blinked hard, feeling panic beginning to creep up on him. Was he going blind?

"I don't... " The dizziness hit him again, hard this time. 'I... I think..." Everything after that was dark. Dark and lots of quiet, punctuated by urgent, anxious-sounding yells. He heard Devi calling his name, felt the world pitch to one side, and then everything was gone.

* * *

I apologize beforehand for the long wait you guys are gonna get - I'm gonna be busy all November, meaning despite the fact I'll be planning out the next few chapters, I won't be updating anything till probably a week into December.

I have, though, figured out the plot (I'm mentioning this down here, too, cause I know some of you don't read the notes up top) so this will begin to take a more linear plot-line than it would have had I just wrote for the sake of writing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimers:** JtHM is property of the great Jhonen Vasquez.

**Authors Notes:** Chapter four is fourth.

It's fun making somebody with Johnny's mental standing confused like this. _So much fun_.

* * *

He sucked in a large breath of air when he awoke. Immediately he was disturbed - he was in his house. Sitting on his couch, facing toward his noisily playing television, to be precise. Hadn't he been in a hospital a few moments ago? Or was that a dream? No, it couldn't have been. If the hospital was a dream, then he should have awoken in a pain-filled heap at the base of his stairs, not sitting on his couch in front of his TV.

A shiver went down Johnny's spine. Had he fallen back into his coma, or woken up from a dream? Johnny whimpered under his breath. He hated not knowing if something was real - and he couldn't figure out which reality was which. This was torture.

"M-Meat?" He asked the silent building that was his home. No answer. No more comforted than a few moments ago, the maniac stood; grabbing his coat, hiding a pair of knives in it, and heading out into the night. Right now, his house was the least comforting thing that he could think of. He needed somewhere to think - someplace noisy. Quiet unnerved him right now, he needed a less quiet place to think. Noise would calm him down, so then he could think and try to figure out what had just happened.  
Vaguely, his mind passed over the day he'd blown up that one cafe. He'd been heading to a club at first, though for innocent or destructive reasons, he could no longer remember. Perhaps he'd go to a dance club? He didn't necessarily have to dance.

He turned down the road that the cafe in question had previously resided on - further down the road was a dance club; it had (possibly) narrowly avoided getting destroyed, and so it still stood, flashing lights and loud music telling anyone who passed that it was open and very active. Johnny half-debated turning around and going back home, but the thought that he might actually be in a coma willed him to continue. If doing what he _liked _made him dip further into his coma, then it seemed logical that doing what he _didn't_ like would break him out of it. That is, if he even _was _in a coma.

Music hit his ears like a smack to the head as he entered, and he found himself tensing as he went further in. The sight of all the sweaty, dancing people made him shudder - there was so little space in this place, it was almost claustrophobic. Slowly, he found himself an empty table, and sat down at it, crossing his arms on the table and laying his head down on them. He didn't very much enjoy the music being played -he would've preferred something a little more orchestral- but, he supposed, it was a _dance _club. They were supposed to play music that people danced to.  
With every breath in, he blocked out the music more and more. He enjoyed it _being _there, but didn't very much care to _hear _it. His mind cleared out a little, and he began to consider his situation. He was either in a coma (which he was vaguely sure you weren't usually aware of), or had just awoken from a very strange dream that had involved a whole lot of sleepwalking. But the hospital, that Callahan guy, his chat with Nurse-Devi... It seemed too real to be a dream. For that matter, he was certain he could still feel the strain and soreness and general all-around _pain _of trying to walk on three-years-unused legs. But, if it was a dream, he would just continue to spend time doing things he hated. Johnny sighed, burying the rest of his face in his arms.

"This is why I _hate _sleep." He muttered.

"J-Johnny...?" He heard, muttered fearfully by a voice he recognized. Carefully, he looked up. Yup, there she was. Devi. In the back of his mind, he vaguely hoped she wouldn't hit him again.

"Hello, D-Devi.." He stammered, looking elsewhere. "I swear I'm not here for you. I needed a place to think. A noisy place." Devi narrowed her eyes.

"Yeah right. How is it you always seem to be able to find me, huh?" She began looking herself over, as if searching herself for something. "Did you bug me, or something?" Johnny shook his head, fearful and a little irritated.

"Why would I do that? I'm trying to _avoid _you, not stick to you like a burr." Devi glared at him in disbelief.

"_You're_ trying to avoid _me_?" Getting increasingly agitated, Johnny nodded.

"Yes; I do believe that last time we met I was left with a broken jaw, broken nose, and a concussion!" Devi folded her arms over her chest.

"Oh, _excuse _me! I guess next time time I'll just _let _you run me through with a pair of foot-long daggers!" She opened her mouth again, likely to yell some more, but Johnny cut her off.

"Devi, I _really _don't want this right now... I think I'm losing my mind and though it's what I want the most right now; any form of stability is eluding me..." Devi scoffed again.

"Yeah, cause you where the _epitome_ of sanity before." Johnny sighed.

"_Please_, Devi" The girl fell silent, and as Johnny sighed, resting his head on his arms again, she spoke.

"What's wrong?" She sounded reluctant and a little bit resigned, but was sitting down at his table and not leaving. This pleased him a little bit.

"I think I had a dream last night..." Devi cocked an eyebrow.

"You slept, then?" The maniac shook his head.

"No. I don't think so." He stared at the table for a moment, silent. "Maybe... I don't know." He slid his gaze up to meet hers. "I was in my house last night, going down to the basement, but I slipped on the stairs. I fell, and hit my head on something. Then I fell asleep, and woke up... in a hospital. They told me I had been in a coma for three years. It seemed so real." He began staring at the table again. Devi sighed.

"You're here, in a club, right now. You're not in -" Johnny cut her off again, sounding a little angry.

"_That's just it_!" He hissed at her, making her flinch. "If I was in a coma, of _course_ the people here would tell me otherwise! They're in my mind, and my mind shouldn't know that, right? So of course the people in my dream-world would say I'm really awake!" Devi blinked, and Johnny, seething, recoiled a little and made himself small in attempts to hold back the anger he was experiencing. "You see? What if I really _am_ in a coma? The other you told me that I was doing badly up until a few weeks ago, when I suddenly got better and woke up. But a few-" It was Johnny's turn to get cut off.

"Wait, the other me?" The male nodded.

"Yes. The you there seemed to like me. She was volunteering there." He waved a hand dismissively, continuing on what he'd been saying before. "Anyway; a few weeks ago I woke up from being sent to heaven, then hell. Neither place wanted me, and I was sent back here, and I decided I was going to try to be different. I tried to kill people less, and got really good. I only killed one person in the whole week!" He held his eyes tightly shut. "I started doing things _differently_, then apparently woke up from a coma." Johnny opened his eyes, turning his gaze towards Devi as she spoke.

"So... you came to a club..."

"Because I _never _come to dance clubs. I'm looking at it like this;" Johnny said "I started doing things differently then I had before when I woke up that first time, so if I do things entirely different than what I normally do, I'll 'wake up' again." Devi sighed.

"But what if you _aren't_ in a coma, Johnny, what then? You'll spend every waking moment of your life trying to wake up from a nonexistent coma doing things you _hate_." She pointed at him. "That's not a nice life, even for a creep like you." Johnny stared at her for a moment before dropping his face into his arms again, moaning through his skinny limbs. "I'd... I'd help you... but I can't see how this sort of goal is even _conceivable_."

"Maybe I should just ignore it..." Johnny muttered, obviously disappointed in this turn of events. "You're right, after all... This place doesn't feel like a dream, anyway..." Devi sighed quietly.

"Why not... give it a chance?" She wasn't sure why she was even bothering to remain seated at the table with him - she still hated him, and obviously he was still very much sanity-challenged. But the sight of him so depressed, so... given up, evoked in her a want to help him. He claimed to want to change, and sure, he was technically saying he wished to go/return to another universe, which appealed to her inner sci-fi geek, but her hatred for him stood strong and she was only barely resisting the urge to punch him in the face and run away to the safety of her apartment. One of the few things keeping her there, talking to him, was that she felt talking to Johnny (apparently about his wish to change his _very _bad habits) appealed to her more than running home and listening to Sickness laugh at her cowardice in front of it's implied ex-master.

Johnny lifted his head, his eyes moist with held-back tears. This sight caught Devi unawares, and a fact arose in her mind - Johnny had depression. He had told her this at one point or another during her time working at Dragon's Books, and until now, she had forgotten.

"Why bother?" He muttered. "Whether I'm here or there, I'll never know what's real and what isn't anymore. Am I damning myself to living forever in a dream, or giving up and letting myself reside in a coma for the rest of my life?" Devi opened and closed her mouth, trying to come up with a response to his rather depressingly negative observation.

"W-why don't you..." She paused for a moment, locating the train of thought she'd come up with. "Why don't you rest on it? I'll meet you here again tomorrow night, and... and we'll come up with something together?" Devi internally raged at herself. Come back? Meet up with him, purposely, intentionally, _willingly_? What the _hell _was she doing? Depressed or not, this man who had tried to kill her deserved little to no pity, and definitely not her promises to help him out!

"Really?" He asked, a fragmented smile shifting onto his face, in place of the frown he'd had previously. "You'll come back, you'll help me?" Devi almost screamed out that she would never help out a murderer, but the childishly hopeful look on his depressed face was wreaking havoc on her heart, and filling her with guilt. She sighed, nodding.

"Yeah..." She let out a long, resigned breath. "Yeah, Johnny. I will. I promise to help you figure this out. But you" She added "have to promise to _really _try and change; to find a better channel for your anger than murder, or torture." She smirked at him. "Lord knows that in this world or that, it'll come in damn handy." Johnny smiled, standing up.

"Thank you Devi. I promise, I really do." Devi stood as well, intent on resuming her original idea of catching inspiration from the rave crowd. She wanted to draw a big crowd of people, dancing under hot, flickering lights without a single care about anything other than their dancing. She watched Johnny leave and the smirk turned into a smile, which stayed on her face, even as he disappeared.  
Johnny's own intentions were, originally, to return to his house and relax, but the thought of returning to that place made him uncomfortable. He promised to change for Devi. If he was to really, _truly _change, he had to leave Seven-Seven-Seven behind for good.

Once he reached his house, he debated on what to do. Lock it? Burn it? Merely leave and hope nobody else stumbled upon the horror house hidden under the guise of a heavenly number? The man let out a breath. He'd figure that out later. Right now, he decided, he'd break his Guinness-worthy record of no sleep. But certainly not in his own house.  
Carefully and silently, he climbed up the side of his neighbors home. He knew Squee to be home -kids his age were off school now, right?- and as he reached the ever-unlocked window to his friends room, tapped upon it. Sure he could simply go inside, but that didn't mean he couldn't be polite, right? The little boy in question appeared at the window quickly, having become used to his strange neighbor's habits of using the window as a door.

"Mr. Scary Neighbor Man?" Squee asked, rubbing his eyes in obvious fatigue, evidently have only recently awoken. Johnny crawled inside, his Devi-influenced good mood faded for some reason.

"Johnny, little Squee, I'm Johnny." Squee yawned, sitting down on his floor as he gazed up at his neighbor, patiently waiting for the man to speak. "I know this is sudden, but... may I... sleep here?" The little boy's eyes widen with surprise. From what he'd learned of his neighbor, the man hated sleep, and would go to any lengths to avoid it. And now, he _wanted _to sleep? What was going on?  
His confusion must have shown in his face, because Johnny took a slow breath, kneeling down to Squee's eye level. "I've promised a... an _acquaintance _of mine, that I'd try to... change." The man said, picking his wording carefully. "I've promised her that I'll try, and I've decided to start by leaving Seven-Seven-Seven for good, and by trying to sleep." Squee blinked, turning to gaze around his room. Though big enough, the young boy only had one bed; a single bed that might've been able to fit two _children _comfortably, but a child and an _adult_? Granted, he was skinny, but still.  
Squee thought for a moment, taking in the now-quiet maniacs words. The man wanted to change. He claimed he was moving out of the creepy house next door, and wanted to try sleeping. If the man wanted to change, he would no doubt try to stop killing people, right? He wanted to be better. Squee nodded.

"You can use my bed, Mr. S-" Squee paused "Mr. Johnny." Johnny blinked.

"Really? But, where will you sleep, then?" Squee shrugged, tired from having been awoken by his neighbor.

"I guess I could sleep on the floor. I-" But Johnny stopped him there, picking his up and staring at him.

"No, I refuse to let you sleep on the cold ground." His gaze drifted away to nowhere in particular, having began suddenly thinking. Without a word, he walked over to the boy's bed, curling up on it, Squee still held in his arms. "This way..." Johnny muttered "I'm beating two things at once..." He took in a slow, but shaky breath. "I'm willingly going to sleep, and I'm inducing physical contact with another human being." Squee gulped, his small body tense. He was fond of Johnny to a point, sure, but being held in the mans arms with no apparent ability to leave unnerved him.

Both males were silent as time passed. It became obvious to Squee rather quickly that Johnny had fallen asleep, as he'd said he wanted to. His grip on the little boy had softened, to the point where Squee knew it would take no effort at all to slip out of the mans currently nonexistent grip and find another place to rest, but the shuddering breaths that the older man was taking reminded him of somebody about to cry.  
He carefully turned over, moving so he faced the man he looked up to, and yet feared so strongly. The man looked upset, and did indeed appear as though he was going to burst out in tears. He looked scared, as well. Squee recognized what was going on - Johnny was having nightmares. Vaguely, the boy wondered if that was why Johnny had sworn off sleep to begin with, but as a yawn fought it's way out of him, he decided to throw caution to the wind, just this night, and cuddled closer to the upset man on his bed. Johnny was nicer to him than his own father, by far. Shmee made Squee himself feel better - it was only fair that Squee try to do the same for Johnny, right?

* * *

I have no earthly idea why I made Johnny be on the verge of a breakdown. I guess it's cause a sad Johnny is... well, in character, technically, seeing as the dude does have depression. I also have no idea when this story turned into an angsty Johnny/Squee fluff-fest. FORGIVE ME MY SINS. Actually, I've no problem with J/S fluff, I just would prefer it stay the hell out of my Devi/Johnny fics. But, we'll see where this new chapter takes us huh? I'm gonna try and discover the plot in the meantime, as this story is just me writing as ideas come to me, no linear storyline whatsoever.


	5. Chapter 5 interlude Of Sorts

DISCLAIMER: JtHM belongs to Lord Vasquez

AUTHORS NOTES: I write this from my friends laptop, in her house, while she plays Rock Band 3. I probably won't get this chapter fully written in the one sitting, as I am certain we mean to play Left 4 Dead 2 once she's done the challenge. Either way, if I get this posted at all, I'll be lucky.

If you do see this, with the authors note specifically mentioning it being written on her laptop, then don't count on seeing much else posted, as, again, using a friends laptop. I'm lucky enough to get _anything_ out right now.

* * *

He watched, silently, as the wheelchair-bound man collapsed where he sat. The not-quite-nurse named Devi began screaming for help, supporting Johnny as they ran up, helping him onto a stretcher as they carted him off to some room he couldn't care less to name. Devi definitely liked the man - how much was yet to be known, but _something_ was certainly there.  
Vaguely, he wondered if the now-comatose-again man had returned those unconfirmed feelings. He wouldn't have been surprised, and it wasn't even hard to imagine that he _did_, with they way he had acted around her.

It was surprising, that the man had woken up at all. He had thought that the magic he'd woven around the violent man would have stuck him in that state forever. Or at least until he himself died, at which time the 'spell' would have, more or less, 'detonated' the mans life force - Johnny would die alongside him. It wasn't something he had deliberately done, by no means, but when one like himself fed off of another's life-force, they were kind of intertwined in such a way that if one died, so would the other.  
Which meant that if Johnathan died, so would he. Inconvenient, but entirely understandable when thought about.

In all honesty, though, he should have expected the spell to wear off eventually. Johnny had always been a smart man, whether sane or entirely cuckoo. It was reasonable that the more aware of the spell he was, the weaker it would get, until a point was reached that it could not hold him in any longer.

So, he supposed, he'd have to watch the man more closer, make sure to reinforce or replace the spell were Johnny to break out again. And he would, now that he was aware of 'another world'. He would try again and again to come back, until the day he died. His reality had been breached, his curiosity gripped. Johnny would not stop trying, if it meant ignoring all else he knew.  
It was unfortunate, as well - now Johnny was aware his world might not have been real, the spell that had been crafted to neatly around him would never be so strong again. There would be elements that existed before wouldn't be there now, pieces that wouldn't match up that even Johnathan would know should have.

"Doctor?" Came a voice from behind him. He turned away from staring at the table that Johnny and Devi had long since left, easily slipping his mask back on and turning to smile at the nurse he could not recall the name of, nor did he care to.

"Yes?" She fidgeted a bit - as they all seemed to do around him. He wasn't sure if it was something about how he looked, or if it was them all just subconsciously sensing his magic -though he hated calling it such- with that part of the mind humans had long forgotten how to use. Sensing him and knowing something was up with him, but unable to define whether or not that 'different' was good or bad or just them being paranoid. Most just put it off as undue paranoia.

"You're wanted in surgery." She glanced down at a clipboard that she held. "Ms. Delacoss has agreed to the treatment." He smiled, nodding. He wasn't anywhere near fond of helping humans in this manner, but if he wanted to keep an eye on Johnny, he had to have access to him at all times, and as a part of Johnny's staff, who were supposed to be ready at all times in case something went wrong, he had everything he needed.  
Normally, he wasn't allowed to take or even oversee surgeries, but had been eagerly assigned this one not long after Johnny had awoken. He happened to be one of the better surgeons in the hospital staff - though to be honest, he was confused as to why they'd assign a surgeon to a comatose patient was really beyond him. But, it didn't matter. He had access to Johnathan, had access to the human he was feeding off of. That was all that mattered. He had been lucky, regardless, to get this chance to pull Johnny back under. It was unfortunate that Devi had suddenly become so fond of him, as that would make it harder to do what he needed to the man and stay unnoticed, but he would manage. She was not part of his ready-staff, she wouldn't be able to visit him whenever she wanted.

"Thank you for telling me; I'll be right there." She nodded, darting off to wherever she'd come from, and he took a final glance at the table Johnny had been sitting at not so long ago before nodding to himself. This would make his job harder - Devi being so fond of the man, Johnny being aware, at least in part, of what was happening to him, and the rest of the ready-staff constantly watching Johnny for any new happenings. Their comatose patient had woken up once - that generally meant him waking a second time was highly likely. He would have to watch himself, as well; if they suspected him of doing anything to the man, it would be over for him. He would be taken off the staff, not allowed near the man. And Johnathan would wake, and he would stay awake, and it would come to a point where he himself keeping his human form would get increasingly difficult - until he switched over, and then hiding himself would be as easy as doing the same to the eiffel tower. Humans were observant, especially when it came to anything they didn't see on a regular basis. Things like himself.

He turned, leaving the room and heading for Delacoss' room. He would absolutely love to botch the surgery, but a good reputation as a fantastic surgeon was better than one where he was known for screwing them up. It put less eyes on him, technically. People didn't watch to see how he'd do, they just looked and expected him to succeed and continued on their way, and that was it. And he liked it that way. It made keeping Johnny, and 'feeding' on him, under that much easier.

0o0o0o

"I don't understand." Devi said to the nurse that was currently reattaching the machines to Johnny's body. "He was so healthy. Well, relatively speaking." She gazed at Johnny's face - pale, calm, and gaunt from years of complete stillness, which was mimicked on the rest of his thin body. She had been proud, in a way, to see him talking so well, and moving so well on his own, as little movement as he'd done. He had been remarkably healthy for a three-year coma victim.

"Maybe he just burnt himself out." The nurse replied. "Maybe he wasn't as healthy as he seemed, and burnt out his energy trying to make us think he was alright." Devi looked at her. She had a point; Johnny had seemed insistent that he was fine. Perhaps he hadn't been, and wore himself out trying to reassure them that all was fine. If that was the case, then chances were that he'd wake up. At least, it seemed logical that once his body recovered from the self-induced strain he'd possibly put himself in, that he'd wake right up again.

"Maybe." She said. "I really hope that that's all, though. I think wear-out is better than relapse, don't you?" The nurse nodded, fixing the heart monitor to him now.

"I do imagine that it's better, yes. It's more likely for him to wake up from something energy-involved rather than being too weak to stay awake, and relapsing." The nurse paused for a moment, and turned to her, smiling oddly. "You like him, don't you?" Devi sputtered, turning to stare indignantly at a spot on the white walls.

"O-of course not!" She said firmly, stuttering slightly. "He was just... interesting, is all." The nurse smirked, obviously not believing her.

"I'm not stupid, honey, I know love when I see it; all stages of it. And what you have isn't just some doctor-patient pity from the old days - it's the real thing, you would't be so darn concerned otherwise." Devi blushed, turning to gaze at Johnny again. Did she like him, in more than just that old doctor pity from way back when, with soldiers in wars? She certainly was concerned enough about him.

"So, you really think he's gonna be okay?"The nurse nodded.

"Oh, yes. I might have only seen him for a few moments, but I can tell that he's a strong one. He'll fight, and if he likes _you_ as strongly as you seem to like him, then goddess knows he'll be a fighter." She smiled at her. "Just don't lose faith in him, honey." Devi once more looked at the man that had been so lively so recently. Love or not, she desperately wished him to wake. He had been interesting. He had seemed to be a might bit deranged, or possibly some form of sociopath, but... interesting.

The nurse, finished, left - leaving her alone with Johnny.

"Johnny - you might not be able to hear me, since you're in a coma and all, and the whole 'they can hear you talking' thing is... well, shaky at best... Either way, cliched as it sounds, you need to fight, alright? I mean..." She paused, then laughed hollowly. "...how else am I gonna sneak you that cherry slushy, huh?" She shook her head, sighing. "Seriously though, you have to fight. Somethings not right about this whole thing. I know that this sort of thing isn't impossible, that coma patients relapse all the time, but this time... it feels wrong. Off. I'll be watching from this end, but I can't help you nearly as much if you don't fight for me, alright?" As if in response, Johnny's fingers twitched once, but part of her was certain it wasn't because he'd heard her. It was probably phantom signals from his brain, making it's way to the muscles and setting off a visible motion in his hand. That he'd heard her, and it was a response to her request...? Nearly impossible.  
Still, she could hope, right? What harm could there be in believing he'd heard her, even subconsciously?

* * *

Just a quick update, while I am still able to do this. If you didn't read the authors notes up top, then you should know that another update to any one of my stories, is nearly impossible. I still write 'Come Undone' (among other various stories), and would update that as well/instead, had I the written (on paper) chapters with me here, but I don't. So settle for this, eh? Just as proof that I'm not dead.


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